


like i'm your everything

by leatherandlace



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: F/F, basically some angst and some analyzation, mellivia bitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:26:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6643123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leatherandlace/pseuds/leatherandlace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Olivia was looking at her for too long now for Mellie to ignore it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	like i'm your everything

**Author's Note:**

> I've been really into Scandal lately, and if you think I ship either one of these beautiful ladies with him, then you must be crazy. This is my first time writing for this pair, but definitely not the last--I already have a few works in the making. I hope you guys like it!

Olivia was looking at her for too long now for Mellie to ignore it, so she turned around to meet her eyes, “Why are you staring at me?”

 

 

Olivia laughed, setting down her wine on the coffee table, “What, I can’t look at you?”

 

 

“Not if you’re looking at me like that.” Mellie took a deeper sip of her drink as Olivia set hers down. With every dinner they had in this damn apartment she felt her firm resolve breaking piece by piece, like a spider web of broken glass, deepening and stretching with every bowl of popcorn and shared smile. It had become a ritual, her showing up at Olivia’s door for wine and maybe Gettysburg with popcorn. A welcome ritual, for both of them. Olivia didn’t know a definitive time when she started waiting for Mellie to show up at her door, but it was definitely something that she realized was happening. She was watching the news to see whether or not Abby screwed up the press conference tonight before Mellie showed up, though her popcorn was already filled with two servings.

 

 

(Fitz himself had screwed up, and once again a woman in his life had to pick up the pieces—that woman now being Abby. Mellie and Olivia had been enjoying their freedom from his stupidity recently.

 

 

For Mellie, it was like surfacing from underwater after so long of time that she didn’t think she’d make it. It was as if she was swimming upward, and was suffocating. For such a long time, she had no idea if she was swimming to the surface or swimming deeper. Everything that happened to her for the past 20 years was like another push downward, away from the surface. Big Gerry—tug; Fitz’s affair with Olivia—tug; being trapped in the White House for so long—tug; Jerry’s death—tug. But the good things, the things that had been in her life recently, had been like giant strokes toward the surface. Winning the Senator position—upward; her filibuster—upward; running for President—upward; becoming friends with Olivia, best friends—upwards. Escaping Fitz was the last stroke upward, where she broke the surface and gasped for breath, seeing the sunlight after 20 years.

 

 

For Olivia, it was the start of something new, and the end of something old. It was a beginning and an end, and she still wasn’t sure how she felt about it. The way things had ended with Fitz wasn’t helping her process it, like trying to force a frayed knot through a loop. Whenever she thought about it, about ending things so abruptly and so scathingly, little strings would escape, and the fray would widen.

 

 

But neither of them was in Fitz’s grasp anymore.)

 

 

Watching Abby’s press conference was a lonely experience, but then she heard a knock on the door. She immediately smiled, immediately thought of Mellie, because it had to be Mellie on the other side of her door.

 

 

And then she realized Mellie was the only person that she _wanted_ to open the door to. Not Fitz, not Jake, but Mellie. That perhaps Mellie was there, at the back of her mind, all the time, that the thought of Mellie and her big hair and big smile and big personality was a constant. Because as much as she hated to admit it, Mellie was a constant, even though it wasn’t exactly _constant_ when Mellie would turn up at her door with a bottle of extremely expensive foreign wine. But Olivia was always waiting for it, always at the edge of her seat with enough popcorn for two, waiting for that knock on the door and the wide, hopeful smile when she lifted the peephole. Maybe the waiting was the constant, the waiting for Mellie.

 

 

But Mellie never made her wait too long.

 

 

She was almost always there (and how the Senator of Virginia got enough free time to see Olivia this much, she had no idea), almost always with that bottle of wine, that hopeful smile, the appetite for popcorn and retellings of the day. 

 

 

And to Mellie, Olivia was her constant, but in a different way. Perhaps it was unfair, but she never waited for Olivia. Olivia was always there; maybe not physically, but in her mind, she was constantly present. When she was in her office, when she was dealing with difficult people, when she got overwhelmed with an interview or paper, Olivia was there in her mind to calm her down and keep her steady. When it was late at night and early in the morning at the same time, that little space of time where nothing seemed to touch you and it’s frighteningly quiet, and you feel frighteningly numb and empty and nothing, Olivia was in her mind. When her hands were shaking in that space of time, shedding tears that she didn’t feel splashing onto her hands, the urge to scream until her throat was raw, to feel something other than pain, she would tune into the Little Liv in her mind, the promise of dinner the next day.

 

 

On some days, the promise of Olivia Pope in her life was what kept her going.

 

 

Olivia was a weight that kept her grounded, that kept her from floating away. Olivia was a weight that promised laughing and smiles and future and the feeling of weightlessness. The good weightlessness, where everything feels like something, not the weightlessness where she was nothing, just a wave lapping on the shore and going back with the rituality of life. Olivia was the good side of all things.

 

 

So they were constants for each other.

 

 

And when Olivia started looking at Mellie a minute earlier, ignoring her wine (which was unusual in itself) for the sight of Mellie drinking hers and crunching on bits of popcorn, constant started to diminish. Because what was not constant was this, this feeling of wondering what was going to happen next when things got to quiet.

 

 

“How am I looking at you?” Olivia brought her knees up to her chin and rested her head on them, still not looking away from Mellie.

 

 

Mellie drained her glass in one gulp, rivulets of red streaming out of the corner of her mouth. When she wiped it with the sleeve of her dress, she turned towards Olivia.

 

 

“Like I’m your everything.”

 

 

Though there were soft records playing from the kitchen, the silence that then fell was like a blanket, stifling the room. She was breaking the rules, the unspoken ones.

 

 

“And what if you _are_ everything?” Somehow Mellie was closer to Olivia than she had meant to be _ever_ , because one of the unspoken rules was to never acknowledge the feelings more than just friendship for her ex-husbands ex-mistress, who was now her best friend. (Now her only friend, the only person she could ever really talk to. And her only other friends all worked at OPA.) And there were definitely feelings more than friendship for her, but she was Mellie Grant, Senator of Virginia, and Republican Presidential Candidate.

 

 

Presidents did not dream of leaning in and kissing that silly smirk off of Olivia Pope’s face, to taste popcorn and wine on her, to feel her on different levels than she’d ever felt, not even with Fitz. Presidents did not want to wake up every morning to Olivia Pope so that she could kiss her and make coffee and breakfast for her for, and drive her to work, giving her a kiss on the cheek—“Have a good day at work, babe.” Presidents did not want to do all the things Mellie dreamed of doing to Olivia Pope. (And perhaps the current President did want to do these things, but generally, it was not accepted.)

 

 

“Am I? Everything?”

 

 

Olivia was placing a hand on her cheek, her thumb stroking from her cheek to the edge of her lip. Olivia was fully prepared to break every single rule Mellie had ever written—and so was Mellie. Mellie leaned into her and grabbed the curve from her shoulders to her neck. If they were breaking rules, she was going the whole damn mile.

 

 

“Absolutely.”

 

 

And then they were kissing. Finally kissing after all those fights and heaving chests and then smiles and tentative glances and _everything_ had let to this, and god was it wonderful. Olivia was wrong: this _kiss_ was indeed everything, and it took two to kiss.

 

 

Olivia was cataloguing every single thing that she could in this moment. The feel of Mellie on top of her, pushing her to the back of the couch with stunning force, the feel of Mellie’s tongue in her mouth, hot and warm and wonderful, the feel of flush skin under her fingertips.

 

 

They broke apart for breath, and Olivia was not used to seeing Mellie this close, the only other time being when she fell asleep on her shoulder, and when Olivia woke up she couldn’t help but stare. And now, she could see the vulnerability in Mellie’s eyes, and the beauty of recklessness and the beauty of Mellie herself. She could see the splattering of freckles reaching into her collarbone, the shape of her cheekbones and nose.

 

 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, and I don’t regret doing it.” Olivia murmured to her, brushing Mellie’s hair behind her ear. She pushed Mellie backwards, resting her elbows on either side of Mellie’s head. She relished the smile she got in return, “I think I might do it again.”

 

 

As they were kissing for the second time out of many more that night, the constant of each other rang like a bell throughout the apartment, a beacon of promise, a promise that continued ringing into the next morning, where Mellie got to make her breakfast and coffee and kiss her goodbye at work and think about kissing Olivia in peace for the rest of the day.

 

 

For both of them, the waiting was over.


End file.
